voice
[ There's the sound of labored breathing, of the clatter of Shelke knocking her journal off her lap. It falls open to a random page, but she can't decipher the contents because her vision's blurred. She can't even keep her hands still enough to write.
She's pale, cold to the touch. She might as well be a corpse already. Her skin looks strangely bluish in the dim light.
There are voices. She hears them from the distant corners of the room and from just behind her ears. Voices of the dead, of those she hopes to never see again. Weiss' laugh, his arrogant decrees. Nero's hoarse, raw screaming from the floor below. The shotgun clap of Rosso's heels. Azul's deep, resonate breaths, like that of a slumbering beast.
The Professor's distant muttering, when he spoke to himself because none of them were human enough for him to speak to.
She groans quietly, the only sign of life she can manage as she tries to crawl away from it, away from herself. She doesn't get far before her arms give out on her. She's delirious, her body beginning to shut down from mako deprivation. It hurts. She can't find breath enough to scream, but her skin is searing with the cold. It's so cold it burns her. It's under her skin and she can't get it out.
Death is always with you, as long as you are with Deepground.
Shelke's small hands claw into the ground. No. She left them, she-- ]
...Professor, I-- I can't--
She's pale, cold to the touch. She might as well be a corpse already. Her skin looks strangely bluish in the dim light.
There are voices. She hears them from the distant corners of the room and from just behind her ears. Voices of the dead, of those she hopes to never see again. Weiss' laugh, his arrogant decrees. Nero's hoarse, raw screaming from the floor below. The shotgun clap of Rosso's heels. Azul's deep, resonate breaths, like that of a slumbering beast.
The Professor's distant muttering, when he spoke to himself because none of them were human enough for him to speak to.
She groans quietly, the only sign of life she can manage as she tries to crawl away from it, away from herself. She doesn't get far before her arms give out on her. She's delirious, her body beginning to shut down from mako deprivation. It hurts. She can't find breath enough to scream, but her skin is searing with the cold. It's so cold it burns her. It's under her skin and she can't get it out.
Death is always with you, as long as you are with Deepground.
Shelke's small hands claw into the ground. No. She left them, she-- ]
...Professor, I-- I can't--